ericlustbader.the ninja-第108章
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hing。
Nicholas recalled the first time they had met。 It had been in Hong Kong； ironically； after the period Lee had spent in Hollywood； working as a bit player in films and TV and teaching stars enough of the martial arts to get by in front of a camera。
He was beginning to be somewhat of a star in his own right then。 They had taken to each other immediately but time and logistics had worked against them and they had never seen each other again。
Lee's death had e as a shock to Nicholas。 Not that someone would try to kill him … he knew enough about Lee by that time to understand that the man's unpromising nature had bee a thorn in some decidedly unsavoury sides … but that an attempt had succeeded。 He had always wondered how it had been done； now he thought he knew。
Outside； it was still stifling and； in this place of hot lights； fast food； dirty dope and even dirtier deals； more so than elsewhere。
It took him fifteen minutes to find an empty cab and half that time to reach the Dakota； there was little traffic。
He had stayed at the decaying theatre just long enough to catch one of Lee's gorgeously choreographed action sequences； motivated； as usual； by revenge。 Tonight there seemed nothing artificial about that。
Goldman； dapper as ever in a pale blue pinstripe shirt and midnight…blue linen slacks； met him at the door。 He smiled warmly when he saw Nicholas； extending a firm hand。 'Nick。 We were getting worried about you。 He turned； still in the doorway。 'Edna； it's him。' He pulled Nicholas inside； pushed a rum on the rocks into his hand。 'Here。 It looks like you need this。'
Edna； a dark…haired chubby woman； bustled into the living room from the swing door to the large kitchen。 She beamed； raised her hands。 'Tateleh！' She kissed Nicholas on both cheeks。 She had the kind of incandescent inner warmth that made mere physical beauty irrelevant。 'Where have you been so long； you haven't e to see us？' Her voice held just the right balance between love and reproach。
He smiled thinly。 'It's good to see you both。'
'That's it；' she said as if she had discovered a rare artifact。 'You've lost weight。 e。〃 She took him by the hand。 'We eat first。 Whatever it is you want to talk to Sam about can wait for a full stomach。'
They ate in the kitchen with the yellow and beige wallpaper and the old West Side fixtures； the oval table of fine…grained mahogany richly waxed； covered with a beautiful embroidered white…on…white tablecloth。 A brass Menorah stood on a wall shelf above the table； at its centre。
Afterwards； as Edna cleared the dishes； Sam nodded silently to Nicholas and they excused themselves。 Edna kissed them both before they left。 'Whatever is wrong；' she told him with absolute faith； 'you can fix it。 Right； Sam？ Am I right？'
'You're always right。' He ushered Nicholas into the living room。
Beige and pale green predominated。 Edna despised brilliant primaries； perhaps because she saw her childhood on 189th Street in those colours。 The effect was a soothing one； like being in a cool forest during the heat of the day。
They sat on the beige velvet couch and Sam put his feet up on a matching ottoman。 An antique clock ticked lightly from its owl…like perch on the white marble mantelpiece。 A great bunch of dried eucalyptus in a pale pink ceramic vase stood within the grate； wafting its pungent scent into the room。 There was a Utrillo on the opposite wall and； on another； a small Dali。 In their bedroom； on pale blue walls； were a Picasso and a Calder which； of course； Edna detested。 They were all originals but they were displayed with a pleasing lack of ostentation。
'It has e back；' Nicholas said softly。 'All my past； like a great tidal wave。〃
Goldman reached for a hardwood box； took out a cigar； lit it slowly。
'I've lost the present somewhere along the line。 I no longer know where I am。'
He deliberately blew the blue smoke away from Nicholas。 'Nicholas； as Shakespeare so cleverly put into Ophelia's mouth； 〃We know what we are； but we know not what we may be。〃'
'Sam； I didn't e here for homilies！' he exploded。
'Nor did I mean to give you any。' He took the cigar out of his mouth； laid it on a crystal ashtray。 'Look； it is totally unreasonable to expect to know or understand everything about yourself。 The human being is such a plex animal that we have to be content to muddle through things as best we can。 Some days； it just doesn't seem nearly enough。 At other times。。。' He shrugged with some equanimity。
'I understand all that。 But you're the expert on history。 I am only partly a Jew。 I haven't had the training。 I don't …'
'It has nothing；' Goldman said seriously； 'at all to do with training。 One learns the meaning of being a Jew just as one learns the meaning of being a human being … by living life； not by learning the Torah。
'It es from what you feel inside and the important thing is that you do not deny what is inside you。 Doubt and fears； uncertainty of the present and the future all stem from that。 Your self must be free to go in whichever direction it must go。
'The spirit flies； Nicholas … it is the only thing we possess which can。 It is a sin to tie it down； to deny your spirit its breath。 Life is nothing without it。 We merely survive； from day to day； in a kind of unthinking limbo。
'Does this answer your question？'
In the night…silence of the tower on Park Avenue； he sat with Raphael Tomkin。 At the moment； Tomkin was on the telephone。 Somewhere in the world； it was always some time between nine and five and that meant business was rolling。 Decisions； vital to one subsidiary or another； and thus vital to the corporation as a whole； required the' mind of the mover and the shaker。 Three continents awaited the oute of such trans…Atlantic or tram…Pacific conversations。
While Tomkin talked on in mega…figures； a kind of semi…secret corporate shorthand； Nicholas looked at the tiny bit of metal and plastic he held between his fingers。 He turned it like a miniature world； though in truth it was only a disk and thus flat； so that it caught the lamplight； its face turning to a slow dazzle。
Just possibly； he thought； this little piece of the electronicized present could be the key to it all。 The past； the present and the future。 It could end right here； if he chose。 If he chose。
And he desperately wanted it to be his decision。
He felt； quite rightly； that Saigo had taken all initiative from him and he felt stripped bare； naked and defenceless because he had not seen what was happening。
Saigo had been leading him around by the nose until he was dizzy； laughing all the way。 It was a technique from the Go Rin No Sho。 What was its name？ To Hold Down a Pillow。 Restrict the enemy's useful actions while encouraging his useless ones。 Lead him around as if he had a ring through his nose and； when he is in total confusion； strike。
'Where've you been？' Tomkin asked； cradling the phone。 He looked slightly rumpled at this time of the night； his cream…coloured linen suit wrinkled at the insides of the elbows； his medium…width grey silk knitted tie slightly askew。 The flesh of his face had lost the pink glow it maintained for most of the day； seemed pummelled into a kind of uneasy truce … submission was a flat…out impossibility … by the long hours。 Lines at the corners of his eyes had bee noticeable but they merely made him seem that much more human。 Nicholas still felt himself wondering which was the facade。
'In Chinatown。'
Tomkin grunted； swivelling round in his high…backed leather chair。 His hands played idly across his desk's electronic console as a Greek peasant might fondle his worry beads。 'Chinatown； huh？ With that bastard； Croaker； I'll bet。' He stared into Nicholas's face and his eyes； like chips of blue quartz； were merciless。 They were sailor's eyes； Nicholas thought。 The eyes of a man well seasoned to the sardonic tricks of the sea and the open sky。 They were the eyes of a survivor； shipwrecked； his crew drowned； this man would make it onto some beachy shore and； like Crusoe； vanquish time though perhaps not solitude。 'You better not get too friendly with that cop。 Just a friendly warning； 'cause I'm waiting for that motherfucker to step one inch out of line。 Then I'
